


Once a Nightingale Sung

by Crazy_fabfan



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bat Family, Batfamily Feels, Child Abandonment, Crime Fighting, Disability, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Muteness, Singing, Some Humor, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 13:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11783793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazy_fabfan/pseuds/Crazy_fabfan
Summary: Cassandra was raised by her gold-digging crook of a mother and faithful, hardworking father until a night changed her into a Nightingale. She became mute and struggles with her vigilante life, until, one day, she connects with Damian through a song.





	Once a Nightingale Sung

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: contains ideas of adult content. I do not own any of these characters, they belong to DC. I do not own YouTube either. I do not own the song, "My Heart Will Go On" by Celine Dion.
> 
>  _Italics_ for Cassandra’s thoughts. Bruce doesn't adopt Cassandra. 
> 
> Everyone's age is up for debate at present, but in this AU, both Cassandra and Damian are close in age, so no pedobear alert! Also, I know the definition of being mute includes ‘unwillingness to speak’ instead of just muteness from a ‘medical inability’, but just for plot’s sake, go with it. 
> 
> This is also my first fanfic ever, so haha of course it's going to be bad. >_<

Please read the notes.

 

Nightingales are commonly depicted as muses of the night, sirens of the dark, even simple songbirds, hence their name. It is not uncommon for them to sing both during the day and the night, and like most other birds, their unique calls are used to send warnings, communicate, and attract mates. 

How unusual this one nightingale is so odd. Her sound has never been heard, not even one little word.

Nightingale, another vigilante welcomed into the Bat Family for several years, had never spoken a word to any of the members. Dick was sure she was mute, but Tim and Bruce had verified through their frequent medical examinations after dangerous fights that there wasn't any physical reason that prevented her from speaking, it was simply because she didn't talk.

Now, of course in a dangerous lifestyle as one vigilante would expect, communication was important if you didn't want to die. Sure, there were some close calls in the past where Nightingale’s muteness had jeopardized her and her fellow team mates’ safety, along with the mission, but it always ended up with Batman thinking up a new plan in an unbelievably short amount of time to save the day! _How heroic._ All in all, Nightingale was not that much of a burden.

Or so she had hoped.

It was a quiet night on patrol, Nightingale was teamed up with Robin and Nightwing to monitor the east section of Gotham City. It was uneventful, “Suspiciously so,” Robin had declared. It was true though. The streets were empty, as it was 3:34 A.M, but it was unusually calm as there would be some form of criminal activities such as drug dealings in the shady alleys, or a 24 hour convenience store getting robbed, or perhaps a woman getting abused by her drunk husband. 

Or should be.

But there were none. No drug deals in shady alleys, no convenience store getting robbed, no women getting abused by her drunk husband. It was suspiciously quiet. Nights like these, Nightingale tensed, frantically looking around for any sign of trouble.

Nightwing noticed this immediately. “Don't look so nervous, Nightingale.” he spoke softly while approaching her with his signature ‘Confident Strut’. “I know Gotham has a name for being one of the highest crime rate cities, but trust me, there are going to be nights like this. It's kinda peaceful, you should enjoy the silence while you can,” he plopped down next to her legs.

“Tt - you'd be foolish enough to think crime would stop for one night? I should have expected that from you, Grayson.” Robin huffed, disappointment dripping in his tone. 

“Uh - uh! No names, remember Robin?” Nightwing poked. “But in all seriousness, there have been nights where things have been quiet, especially in the good ol’ days when it was just me and Br-...Batman.” he quickly corrected.

Robin raised an eyebrow.

“Yup, just me and Bats. On nights where nothing showed up on patrol, Batman would call it off and we'd head home to watch a movie.” Nightwing smiled back onto the fond memory. “I'd always fall asleep halfway through the movie though. Bruce would just stay there, holding me in his arms until he also fell asleep.”

“No names, remember Nightwing?” Robin spat out sarcastically.

From what Nightingale could tell from her superior expertise on reading body language, she concluded that Damian wasn't actually annoyed at the story, but rather, intrigued. If anything, she could feel a hint of jealousy in his voice. She grinned. 

“What are you smiling about?” Robin snarled, obviously noting that she figured out his thoughts from just that one sentence. Yes, Damian usually pushed people away to hide his soft interior, and there were times where it was unbelievably difficult to reach out to him through his gloating ego, but Damian still cared for his family. Although he did believe he was above all the other Batman protégés simply because he was the ‘true blood son’, he respected each and every other member for their uniquely astounding qualities, but the one person he was most jealous of was Nightingale, because of her ability to read people so easily, no matter how hard they tried to throw her off with fake signals or whatnot. 

She quickly turned away, embarrassed. Although she wouldn't say it out loud, her body relaxed and her face softened, easing into the serenity from their short conversation. She understood how much Bruce cared for his boys, and so did she. She would do anything to protect these boys, all because she loved having a family. 

Following the peaceful banter Nightwing and Robin initiated, Nightingale’s mind drifted off to painful memories.

 

* * *

 

_She was only 5 when her parents abandoned her._

_“I can't believe you did this to me!” her father screamed, absolutely outraged._

_“I can explain!” her mother shouted._

_“Oh, it isn't? Then tell me, what do these papers say, Shiva?” he threw the papers at her as she flinched. “That girl is not my daughter!”_

_Shiva continued shaking, knowing the truth had spilled out._

_“Why did you lie to me? 5 years I've been raising a child, a child not even my own! Why? I loved you so much Shiva, I supported you, I provided for you, and this is the thanks I get? We're you just...we're you just using me for my money?”_

_“No, David! I…”_

_“I can’t believe you! You're not going to even try to deny it?” he gasped in disbelief. “Well, whose is it? Who is Cassandra’s real father?”_

_It was a few minutes of silence between them. Shiva stopped shaking, now knowing she could no longer keep up with this lie._

_“I...I don't know, David.”_

_Her father let out a wailing sound, mixed with heavy feelings of anger and anguish, before grumbling, “This can't be happening! My own wife, a-” while storming out of the house._

_Silence ensued._

_“...Mama?” Cassandra stepped out from behind the living room door to catch a glimpse of her mother. She was stunned to see her mother, usually an uptight, apathetic woman, hunched over on the floor, quietly muttering curses with a pained look on her face._

_“...what to do now...would it be possible...how?...no…now she's a…not good anymore...must abort mission...” She heard her mother mumble in deep thought until finally turning around to see her scared child with wet eyes approaching her slowly._

_“Cassandra...come here.” Her mother motioned her to come closer hesitantly._

_Cassandra ran to the open arms. Shiva calmly patted her daughter’s back._

_“Don't worry about a thing, Cassandra.” They kept in that position for awhile. “Say, honey, why don't we go to the park?” Her mother offered._

_She looked up with wet eyes, not clearly seeing the once glowing complexion of her mother turned an unhealthy gray, deep, sullen eyes, the fake, hopeful smile that hid its true intent._

_Cassandra had only been to park a few times, as she was cooped up in her room for most of the time by her mother’s will._

_“Yes.” She replied hopefully._

_“Alright then, go get ready.”_

_It was a quiet walk to the park, quiet, but quick paced._

_She was only 5, of course she couldn't have known. How she didn't notice how her mother was never affectionate to her ‘father’, how her ‘father’s’ money was depleted so quickly every month when nothing new was bought, how her mother kept Cassandra in her room all the time, how her mother always looked at Cassandra with a look as if she was staring right past her. Especially that night, how her father stormed off, how her mother could not respond to her ‘father’s’ questions, how quickly her mother suggested to go to the park after such a difficult time. Of course she couldn't have known._

_Cassandra looked onto the swings, her favorite piece in the park. She turned around to ask her mother permission to go them, but turned around to see a ghost of her mother._

_Where did mama go, she worried._

_She looked around the surrounding area for her mother, and after a while, the other parents noticed her obvious upset. They questioned her and even offered to help look for her mother. After an hour of fruitless search, Cassandra decided to head home. She had memorized the path to and from home and the park, mainly because it was one of the few places her parents took her to, other than from the doctor’s, and school._

_It was strange, entering her house as a stranger. Once she approached her home, she noticed the door was unlocked. Upon entering the house, she saw the clutter of fallen lamps and tables. All documents were gone from the filing cabinets, and the money in the house was missing. She stood there, in the mess she once called home in confusion. It was not until the neighbors called the police that she would come to the once buzzing, mahogany-bricked house one last time._

_Abandoned._

_From thereon, Cassandra was living in foster care, where she deeply withdrew herself in, refusing to talk and closing herself off from the world._

_That was, until she met Bruce._

 

* * *

 

In the background, a sudden boom could be heard, and then, shrieking followed in suit. 

Nightingale immediately snapped back into reality, and next to her Nightwing and Robin’s playful banter stopped. 

Another gun shot.

“It seems Gotham City can't let go of its high crime crown.” Nightwing sighed. 

“Enough talk, let's go.” Robin flew off the ledge of the building and off towards the direction of the, yet another gun shot, eager for some action. Nightwing and Nightingale followed in suit.

Half a block away from their original standing point, a man in a red bicycle helmet holding a pistol was talking to three men, who were apparently in the middle of a drug dealing.

“Wow, so original,” Nightwing commented.

“Now, you guys will answer to me! Give me 40% of whatever you're handing the dealer and everyone walks away with their heads still on.” The man with the red helmet on spoke in a horribly cringey impersonation of Batman’s own voice, except much more nasally.

“This idiot believes he’ll intimidate someone like that? I see the criminals of Gotham City are not so intelligent,” Robin sneered.

“Haha! That's not it, little D! He's trying to be Ja-I mean Red Hood!” Nightwing howled with laughter.

With the cheap leather jacket, rubber rain boots, and a shiny red bicycle helmet, she observed, Nightingale had to admit, it was a hilarious attempt to imitate the Red Hood.

“Tt- this is a pathetic attempt to imitate Red Hood. I'm sure the real Red Hood will be not be pleased to see this buffoon.” It was as if Robin had read her mind. 

“For sure, little D. Okay, let's go stop him before he actually hurts someone.”

The three of them gracefully landed in between the three men and the ‘Red Hood’. 

“Wha-! Who’re….oh shoot! The bats are here!” The ‘Red Hood’ shouted seemingly to no one.

Robin raised his eyebrow in confusion, who was he shouting to?

Both Nightwing and Nightingale tensed, deducing that he was not alone in this heist. Nightwing scanned the area before pushing Nightingale harshly to the right and jumping to the left, nearly dodging the incoming bullet shot from behind them.

She got up and saw there was another man, again, in another red bicycle helmet holding a gun, now smoking from the freshly pulled trigger.

“Great! Another imposter!” Sarcasm dripping from Nightwing’s voice. 

Nightwing rushed towards him, effortlessly dodging all the bullets Impersonator #2 shot with graceful flips. “You're so trigger-happy, I almost mistook you for the real Red Hood!” He hit him in the stomach with his escrima stick, easily knocking the impersonator over, bent over in pain.

“One down!” Nightwing informed the group. 

Nightingale turned around to see Robin rushing up to Imposter #1 and throwing punches in strategic targets.

_Perfect, a distraction._

Nightingale grabbed the three men and ushered them out of the alley without getting a bullet in either one of them and tied them up to a nearby broken street light. 

She turned around, ready to assist to Robin in capturing Imposter #1, but she soon saw he didn't need any help. At this stage, the man was firing shots seemingly at random, completely missing Robin entirely.

Robin closed in and prepared a final punch to knock the man out, but it was already too late. From afar, Nightingale saw the scene unfold right in front of her eyes. She saw the imposter shoot one final bullet, right before Robin could land his punch. The bullet’s trajectory was heading straight towards Nightwing, who was busy tying up Imposter #2 to notice the stray bullet.

Nightingale saw it all in slow motion, but it was happening too quickly. She wouldn't make it there in time. No, she couldn't lose Dick, not to a stray bullet, she couldn't lose her family again, she would not allow it. So she opened her mouth, ready to shout “Nightwing! Move!”

But no words came out.

A garbled “Nyigh-!” came out instead with a horrible cracking in her voice ensued. She coughed, trying to clear her throat. No, come on voice, work, she pleaded to herself.

And thankfully, Nightwing heard her small cough early enough to see the bullet diving towards his chest and with the help of the adrenaline, he swiftly moved sideways, but, unfortunately, not enough.

Nightwing grunted as the skin around his shoulder opened to the graze of the bullet wound. Robin’s punch finally reached its target, and after hearing Nightwing’s moan, Robin unleashed his fury into that single punch which slammed the man into the wall which also knocked the gun out of his hand, rendering his weaponless and unconscious. 

“Grayson, are you hurt?” Robin looked distressed, letting his guard down in favor to looking after his older brother’s wound.

Nightwing hissed in pain.

“Ah, don't worry, little D. It's just a graze.”

As Robin finished up determining the wound was not fatal, Nightingale finished up tying up the imposters next to the drug dealers by the street light before running to check on the boys.

“I think I'm good now, Robin. Let's go home so Alfred can patch it up.”

Robin glared at Nightwing, firmly assessing whether or not he was telling the truth and after seeing how Nightingale finished tying up the criminals, agreed and grudgingly headed towards the mansion, however, keeping a good distance away from Nightingale.

 

* * *

 

“Report.” Batman demanded as soon as they entered the Batcave. He was busy typing in details of his findings of a mysterious trail of pollen into the computer, most definitely the work of Poison Ivy. 

“Cassandra is a danger to the team!”

Everyone froze and promptly, all eyes were on Damian, bewilderment apparent on their faces. 

Bruce seemed a bit phased by the sudden accusation and turned away from the Bat Computer to look at his son. Damian took off his mask to glare defiantly at his father before explaining.

“Her refusal to communicate has left the team vulnerable to outside dangers. If she had just-!”

“Damian!” Dick interrupted, glaring at his little brother before looking towards Cassandra, who was now looking down to the floor. “It wasn't like that at all, Bruce. Cass...she was busy tying up the druggies, and I...was just too preoccupied tying up the other imposter...she couldn't have known, it really was my fault that I didn't take any precautions while knowing they had guns…” he looked down and clenched around his grazed shoulder. 

Bruce saw this and figured out the situation. “Alfred, please take care of Dick’s wound.” 

“Certainly, Master Bruce.” The old butler glided towards the man and prepared to disinfect it before getting a needle and twine to see in the stitches. Luckily, it was just a graze so there would be no need for anything drastic. 

“Was there anything Cassandra could have done to prevent Dick from getting shot, Damian?” 

Damian looked up from his sulking and faced his father. “Of course she could have done something, Father! I saw from my peripheral vision, she saw the imbecile of an imposter pointing to Grayson, while I was focused on knocking him out. But she, on the other hand, was too scared to move, leaving her mouth open gawking at the scene. She could have warned us, but she didn't. She's always putting the entire team at risk due to her foolish muteness!” 

Cassandra was still frozen in place, shame and guilt making her stomach turn with unease. It was true, though, everything Damian had said. If she had said something, _anything,_ Nightwing wouldn't have gotten injured. It was a close call, and they were lucky to have made it out unharmed, well, mostly unharmed. 

_I could have done something,_ she repeated to herself. 

“Cassandra is a valuable asset to the team. Even though she is mute, her stealth and strong sense of reading body language is needed in our team. Even if she can not communicate directly to us, she has found other means.” 

_Through text and sign language,_ Cassandra thought mournfully. 

“Those ‘other means’, frankly, aren't very reliable.” He stopped for a moment to breathe. “This wasn't the first time she put us in danger! There was the time at Arkham when the Joker escaped and she didn't tell us that the Joker was behind us through the communication links, but rather, simply texting us, but by then, it was too late. He hit us with that giant hammer, which left me unconscious and you missing for 2 days! Or that time Poison Ivy blinded us with that orange powder, where only she was unaffected but she didn't tell us what was happening around us because we could neither read her texts or see her sign. Or the time when she-!”

“Enough, Damian!” Bruce’s face was stoic, but his eyes showed his irritation. Damian grumbled something under his breath before turning towards the stairs. 

Bruce then turned his attention to the girl, seeing how she was now on the floor, softly shaking with shame. Now Bruce, he was Batman, the hard, cold Dark Knight of Gotham, but he was also a father to Cassandra. Bruce was never good at emotional approaches, especially to children, but right then and there, he walked up to Cassandra, hugged her awkwardly while whispering, “Don't worry Cassandra, you're still a part of our family,” in hopes of calming her down.

 

* * *

 

It had been a few days since the incident, and Cassandra had locked herself inside her room, refusing to even go out for meals. Alfred brought up her food, always a soft knock and “Miss Cassandra, your meal,” before setting the tray down by the door and returning to his chores. 

Cassandra appreciated the time the family had left her alone, to give her the space she needed to sort her emotions out. But in a way, it also scared her. Being confined in a room, dark silence overtaking the bright sunlight that seeped through the curtains, leaving her feeling empty with the familiarity to her childhood. 

_Not again,_ she thought, _I don't want to lose my family again._

Slowly, she threw herself back into the schedules of meals, helping Alfred with the chores, and even patrolling again. However so, she felt a rift forming between her and the family, a wall separating them, chains pulling her heart away. She knew they would always be there, but every time she even sat next to one of them, she felt as if she were a million miles away, never seeing their eyes, never greeting their smile, never even hearing their words.

 

* * *

 

“Miss Cassandra, would you deliver these letters to Damian?” Alfred instructed. 

Cassandra tensed up. After the 3 weeks after the incident, she had patched things up quite well with Dick, Bruce, and Tim, but Damian had never seemed more cautious and arrogant than when he was around her. She hated this feeling, the feeling of being watched and judged for every step she took when she was around his proximity. His squinting eyes and tight lipped mouth proved that he never forgave her for hurting Dick. 

It wasn't that Cassandra hated him, _but how could she ask for his forgiveness if she never forgave herself?_

She clenched her teeth and sat up, taking the letters from Alfred’s hands. The long walk up the stairs made her feel more dread as she inched closer to Damian's door. 

It was strange how she felt as if the door had magically plopped itself right in front of her, but soon, she was face to face to the door to Damian's room. She warily lifted up her knuckles, preparing to knock on the wood when she suddenly stopped. 

From the other side of the door, Cassandra heard a beautiful melody drift through the wind. 

_A violin,_ she recognized. Damian was busy practicing. _Maybe I can just slip the letters under his door, he'll get them when he sees them,_ Cassandra thought hopefully. This way, she wouldn't need to confront him at all! _Perfect._

She hastily slid the letters underneath the door and turned around, ready to bolt away from the uptight boy. But she couldn't. Just as she was turning, she heard a few notes, then a few chords, and then she was paralyzed, enticed by the familiar song sweetly sung by the instrument. 

 

* * *

 

 _“-Far across the distance_  
And spaces between us  
You have come to show you, go on

_Near, far, wherever you are_  
I believe that the heart does go on  
Once more you open the door  
And you're here in my heart and my heart will go on and on and on 

_Love can touch us one time  
And last for a lifetime-”_

_Her father loved this song. He would always play this song anytime he could, and it was one of the few songs she heard her parents ever play willingly on the radio. Her father, David, could sing this miraculously well, always hitting the high notes with pure perfection, and even though her mother always told him to shut up, her face always softened upon hearing his voice. Seeing her parents happy, like an actual couple, made her gleam with delight, feeling whole and complete._

  

* * *

 

“And never let go till we're gone~” 

When Cassandra opened her eyes, she saw Damian standing in front of her with an unreadable glare. Shock overtook her and she frantically pointed to the letters she had slipped underneath, which were now being stepped on by Damian himself, but he was obviously not paying them any attention. She looked back up with fear clear in her eyes and she spun around to remove herself from the area, but a hand gripped tight onto her own. She stood frozen.

_Why is Damian holding my hand?_

“...you can sing.” It wasn't a question, but more of a surprised statement.

Still, Cassandra did not move. What did he mean? _I can't sing,_ she questioned herself.

“Come…accompany me…” Damian pulled her hand slightly.

Then Cassandra understood, the memory of her father singing must have triggered herself to speak. Confusion washed over her, _how could this happen? She was mute?_

Cassandra finally looked back to the little boy and saw interest in his eyes. 

“Uh-”

“You _can_ talk.” A little surprise apparent in his voice.

Cassandra wriggled out of his grip and took a few steps away. She was put under his pressuring eyes, clearly awaiting for a verbal response.

“...yes…”

“To what? Accompanying me or about you being able to talk?”

The second part of the question hit her like a truck. Was she always able to talk this openly? Since when? Why now? Questions flooded through her mind, but no answers were found. What was different now? Was it because of her father? Father?

“Both.” She replied to Damian.

 _Oh,_ she thought, _my father must have had some influence over me?_ When she looked further into her mind, she realized that every memory of him was followed with feelings of happiness, a different kind of happiness she never experienced here. _Oh,_ she smiled, _happiness was my trigger, that's when I will talk, when I'm happy._ But how did she figure this out now? Was it because of the song? The happy memory? Or was it because she always pushed herself away from happiness since that night?

“Well, are you just going to stand there?” He motioned her into the room.

Cassandra snapped out of her thoughts and her smile grew sheepish. Damian was forgiving her, even allowing her into his highly secretive room! “No.”

 

* * *

 

“It's actually kinda angelic! I never thought I would hear her talk, nevertheless, _sing!_ ” Dick exclaimed eagerly, jumping around the table to grab the salt.

“Wait- what? That's Cassandra? I thought it was just a video recording!” Tim ran down the hall and placed his ear by the crack of the door, eyes widening when he confirmed it was, in fact, Cassandra singing. “No way!”

Bruce smiled against a sip of coffee. It was beautiful, the way Damian's violin and Cassandra’s voice intertwined to conjure a soft yet elegant sound that flowed throughout the mansion and instantly lighting up the usually dark atmosphere.

“I gotta record this! I wonder how many views this will get on YouTube?” Dick scrambled for his phone, just as Cassandra and Damian hit the crescendo.

“I must say, Master Bruce, you really do have talented children.” Alfred complimented.

“Well, talent does run in the family, Alfred.” Bruce implied with a joking eyes. The two adults sighed in relief, finally knowing Cassandra was cracking out of her shell, now comfortable around the family.

“Wait a second, Dick, we need to record with the microphone or else you won't hear it properly! Where is it-ah, here it is!” Tim rushed after Dick.

 

* * *

 

“You are safe in my heart and my heart will go on and on~” the familiar words rolled off her tongue, allowing Damian to pull one last stroke across the strings, gently mellowing out to perfectly end the song.

Minutes passed by, minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Damian set down his violin and softly, so shyly, looked at Cassandra. At this tender moment, the two just stared in awe at each other, afraid to break the silence as they approached closer to one another, faces inches away.

They were so close, she could smell his minty breath panting lightly as he stared into her dark obsidian pupils. They were so close, _so close,_ that they could have-

“Encore! Encore!” Dick burst into the room abruptly, frightening the two to jump apart. “That was amazing Cass, you have an a-! Oh, I wasn't getting in the middle of something, was I?”


End file.
